Welcome to the Lone Star
by LemonSupreme
Summary: Post series. Bass and Miles are sent to west Texas by Blanchard. Their mission? Go undercover to help a Ranger who might be in trouble. When they see that the Ranger in trouble is actually Charlie, the guys go into over-protective mode. When it's clear that part of Bass's cover is to pretend he's her boyfriend, he goes into a different mode altogether. Charloe for LovefortheStory
1. Chapter 1

**A/N This is for my dear friend LovefortheStory who has a birthday today.**

 **Dear Love, I sincerely hope that this day and the year ahead bring you nothing but happiness, good health and of course - love. :)**

 **This fic will be a handful of chapters long. Expect an update at least once a week if not more. Enjoy & Happy Birthday!**

* * *

President Frank Blanchard reads the rumpled letter one more time, his brow furrowed with worry. This isn't good.

It's not good on a lot of levels – but the most concerning one to Frank is that he will be a dead man if his plan doesn't fix things.

"Shit," he mutters to himself, tucking the folded letter back into his pocket when he hears approaching footsteps.

His Generals have arrived.

Monroe comes through the door first. He's wearing his Texas officer's uniform, having recently returned from his latest border patrol mission. Judging by the smile on his face, the trip was a success. "Hey Frank," Monroe says with a mock salute.

Miles stomps in behind his best friend. He is disheveled and dressed in street clothes – all except for his own Texas uniform jacket, which hangs crookedly on his lean frame. Miles looks grouchy and exhausted. The rumor about Miles is that he and that Matheson woman are having some problems and that he's taken to drinking a lot more than usual – which, Frank knows, is really saying something.

Miles doesn't wait for an invitation. He flops down in the chair opposite Blanchard. "What do you want? It's late and I want to go to the bar."

Frank waits till Monroe sits as well. It's not the first time the two Generals have been summoned to the Texas capitol since the Patriot War had ended, but it has been a while. Miles looks like he'd rather be somewhere – anywhere – else. Monroe looks bored and a little bit curious. Blanchard focuses on Monroe as he begins to tell his story.

Ten minutes later, both of his visitors are paying rapt attention. Miles is even leaning forward, his gaze fixed on Frank. "So Ed Truman had a brother?" Miles shakes his head in disgust.

Blanchard nods. "Yep, and he's an even bigger piece of shit than Ed ever thought about being. Name is Harry."

"Seriously?" Bass chuckles. "You're sending us after Harry Truman?"

Blanchard chuckles indulgently, but clearly he's heard the joke before. "Yeah, well this Harry Truman isn't worth a damn and sure as hell couldn't have filled the shoes of the former US president he got his name from. Truth is the best part of Harry P. Truman was probably the bit that leaked down his Mama's leg."

Miles scrunches his nose. "Thanks, Frank, for that mental image."

Bass leans back. "So Little Truman is a douche like his brother was? No surprise there. What's any of this got to do with us?"

"Well, in addition to being a douche, we think he's attempting to rebuild a Patriot network."

"Are you serious?" Miles scoffs.

"Yeah. We think he's trying to gather like-minded idiots who believe that the wrong side won the war."

"Are there even many of them left? I thought they were all dead or in prison." Bass says.

"Some of 'em just ran off like the little pussies they are. And now that they've had time to lick their wounds, a few want a re-match."

Miles sighs. "And what do you want us to do about it?"

Blanchard hands a map across the desk. "Need you two to go undercover."

"Undercover? Not to sound like a pompous ass, but people know who we are." Bass motions back and forth between himself and Miles. "We aren't exactly wallflowers."

"Around here, yeah. Everybody knows you. Back East, yeah, they know you too." Blanchard stands and leans over his desk to point at the map. "But not in Arnette, Texas. Nobody there is gonna know you. Well, they may know your names, but not your faces."

"Where the fuck is Arnette?" Miles asks.

"Western border of the old Texas state line. A day's drive from El Paso. It's a small town filled with some of the dirtiest and meanest motherfuckers you might find anywhere."

Bass quirks an eyebrow. "That bad?"

"Think New Vegas but worse. The Western Texas penitentiary was in Arnette and when the blackout happened, some of the guards let everyone out so they wouldn't starve to death. A handful of the cons have run the town ever since. We think Harry is looking to that group for some fresh blood."

"Why is Little Truman recruiting ex-cons?"

"Why not? They're not afraid to fight and will do anything for the right price."

Miles waves off the conversation. He's heard enough. "Fine. What do we do, and when we get there?"

Blanchard leans back in his chair and rests his hands on his full belly. "I had a Ranger on Truman's tail. Been following him around for weeks without incident. My Ranger followed Truman into Arnette and then sent word to me that Truman is telling folks he's gonna stay there for a while. He's holed up in an old boarding house and spending a lot of time playing cards at a local watering hole."

"So, what's the problem?" Bass asks.

Blanchard chuckles nervously. "My Ranger got in too deep. Need you to go in and act as backup. Maybe even perform a rescue if needed."

"Is he being held prisoner?"

"No."

"Why doesn't he just leave?"

"Refuses," Blanchard says, shaking his head. "Very dedicated to this mission. Stubborn ass."

"So you're sending US in to babysit a rookie who doesn't know well enough to get out of trouble?" Miles is unimpressed.

"Pretty much, yeah."

"We are still fucking Generals, aren't we?"

"Yes, of course. This isn't some shit job. This is important."

"Fine. What's our cover?"

Frank nods at Bass. "You ever tend bar?"

"No."

"Well, you're gonna learn. It's easy. Pretty sure the Lone Star only serves whiskey or moonshine. Not like you gotta learn how to make cosmos," Frank chuckles. "You'll be fine."

"The Lone Star?"

"It's the biggest bar in Arnette. Been around since way before the blackout. Originally it was a hangout for the prison guards. One of them is still running the place. He's a friend. Name is Rufus. He knows you're coming."

"Okay, so Bass is tending bar. What am I doing?" Miles asks.

"You get to be his number one customer."

"Huh?"

"A drunk. That's your cover. You have to act like a drunk."

For the first time since entering Blanchard's office, Miles smiles. "Now, that I can do."

"Not so fast. I need you to act like a drunk, not BE a drunk. Got it?"

Miles sighs. "Fine. I can do that."

"The Lone Star is where Harry is hanging out. It's where he plays cards and drinks and picks up whores. We think it's where he's making contacts as well. Pretty sure he's using the Lone Star as a home base for his new rebellion."

"So, what are we supposed to do while we're there?"

"Watch out for Joe. That's the Ranger's name: Joe Benjamin. Rufus gave Joe a job also. Keep an eye out for Joe and watch Truman when you can. Three sets of eyes are gonna be better than one."

Bass looks thoughtful. "Why us?"

"Joe asked for you by name."

"Who the hell is Joe Benjamin?" Bass asks. "I don't remember anybody by that name."

"I think you'll know him when you see him. Just go to the bar and ask for Rufus. He'll fill you in on the rest." Blanchard says.

Bass and Miles stand. Miles folds the map and tucks it into his pocket. "When do we leave?"

Blanchard remembers his worry from before. Time is of the essence. "Now is good."

* * *

A week after their late night meeting with Blanchard, Bass and Miles arrive on the outskirts of Arnette, Texas. They pay a farmer to keep their horses. Miles sits down with the farmer and his wife for a late lunch and Bass heads into town.

They had decided to go to the bar separately on the off chance that anyone might be paying attention. Nobody is. Just as Blanchard had warned, Arnette is not a nice place. Bass walks down the main street of this seedy shit hole and takes in the activity. There's a lot of it.

The street is busy with people milling about. Bass sees hookers leaning out of second story windows. One calls out to him. He nods but not in a way that will make her think he's coming back. Under the canopy of a long-abandoned gas station, he sees three guys beating the shit out of a fourth while people watch. A heavily muscled black man is leaning against an old light pole while a red headed woman in a short skirt gives him a blow job.

Bass averts his gaze. Blanchard wasn't kidding. This place is worse than New Vegas. Bass sees the two story building with a huge silver star painted above the door. This is clearly the Lone Star. "Aren't they clever?" He mutters as he steps over a guy who has passed out on the sidewalk.

He opens the door and is enveloped by a pillowy cloud of cigarette smoke. He squints his eyes until they can adjust to the hazy darkness within. The scarred oak bar is long and takes up one side of the room. Murky bottles line the shelves behind it, and old, faded bar stools are lined up in front. Most of the room is filled with crowded tables and raucous drunks. Nobody is paying attention to the front door at all. All the eyes in the place are focused on the stage in the back. A brunette with huge tits is dancing and the fellas are lapping it up.

Bass ignores the stage and heads to the bar. He catches the eye of the bartender. "You Rufus?"

"Depends on who's asking." The man walks over and looks down at Bass suspiciously. He is a giant of a man, barrel chested and broad shouldered. His biceps are probably bigger than Bass's head. He's bald but has a stringy gray beard that hangs to his belly.

"Name is Jasper. Frank sent me to help out."

Something flutters across the bartender's eyes and then he nods slowly. "Welcome to the Lone Star, Jasper. When can you start?"

"Where's Joe?"

"Oh, you'll see Jo soon enough. Come on back here and I'll show you around."

Bass follows Rufus behind the bar and Blanchard was right. This won't be very difficult. He serves whiskey to a guy with a bolo tie and turns to clean some glasses when Rufus calls him over to the end of the bar closest to the stage. "Come on down here, Jasper. You don't want to miss this."

The stage is lit by flickering candlelight and some hanging Japanese lanterns. An old red curtain opens to reveal a woman with her back to the crowd. She's wearing a black dress that is skin tight and short. It shows off very long legs and a perfectly sculpted back. She has on a top hat although Bass only notices the hat as an afterthought. He's not looking at her head.

Someone has begun to drum a slow steady rhythm to go along with the lone guitar. It's a primal thumping sound and the girl on stage begins to shake her ass to the beat. It's sexy as hell and Bass is having a hard time focusing on anything other than the gentle sway of that perfect ass.

"Hey man, can I get a drink or what?" Miles has settled onto a barstool.

Bass nods absently, his eyes still on the stage. "Yeah. What do you want?"

"Whiskey," Miles answers before turning to take in the stage.

They both watch as the girl in the black dress pulls the top hat off her head. As she does, long golden curls spill down her back. The crowd goes wild.

Miles frowns. "Uh…" He sounds suddenly very uneasy.

Bass makes the same realization in the split second before the girl turns to face the crowd. "Holy shit, that's –"

Rufus interrupts smoothly. "That's Jo. Jo Benjamin – just the person you've been looking for."

Bass can't stop staring. When the beautiful girl Rufus calls Jo glances at the bar, she catches Bass's eye. Her expression is unreadable, but she nods imperceptibly before continuing her dance.

Miles is no longer facing the bar. His knuckles are white against his drink.

"Let up a bit there, Mister, or you're gonna crack that glass," Rufus says.

"Yeah, sorry." Miles looks at Bass and his rage is palpable. He speaks in a harsh whisper. "Blanchard sent Charlie after this Truman asshole, alone? What the hell was he thinking?"

"At least she asked for us to come help."

"Yeah, that doesn't help."

Charlie finishes her set and comes over. She's grinning. "So glad you boys finally made it. I've been worried."

Miles and Bass both look at her blankly. What kind of undercover assignment is this, anyway? They exchange a look. Charlie ignores their confusion and lets herself behind the bar, walking right over to Bass and wrapping her arms around his waist. "It's been too long. Don't I at least get a kiss?"

Bass can feel her body, firm and warm against his own. He's never seen Charlie dressed like this and to say he's enjoying the view would be an outrageous understatement. Unfortunately, he also feels the daggers shooting from Miles. Bass leans down, pressing his lips to Charlie's ear. "What's going on?"

"Play along. I'll explain later. Right now, I need you to make everyone here think that I'm your girlfriend. Can you do that?"

"Well, yeah."

"Then do it."

Bass briefly imagines all the different ways Miles might choose to kill him. Then he looks down into her beautiful blue eyes, and he can feel her breasts pressing against his chest, and a whole lot of pent up need comes rushing to the surface. He dips his head down and kisses her. It starts out almost chaste, but she grabs his ass and yanks him closer. Bass gets the hint.

This is supposed to be a heated reunion kiss.

Bass tosses the bar rag he'd been holding aside and digs his fingers into her hair. He angles her face under his and kisses her like a man would kiss his woman after some time apart. He bites her lip and sucks at her tongue. He delves into her mouth, exploring greedily. She responds with an urgency that brings his cock to attention.

"Excuse me, but I need another drink. Or fifty." Miles speaks through gritted teeth. "Barkeep? Can you stop sticking your tongue down her throat long enough to get me a refill?"

"Yeah, of course." Bass grabs a bottle and starts to pour, watching as Charlie disappears into the crowd.

Miles shakes his head. "I already hate this assignment. Let's find this Harry Truman and kill him so we can all go home and life can go back to normal."

Bass nods, but the truth is that the last thing Bass wants is for things to go back to how they were before.

* * *

 **A/N: A quick thank you to Romeo for giving me a beta assist with this chapter. You rock.**

 **Thanks to all who are reading. Please leave a comment if you have a moment. Another chapter will be up within the week. Thanks all. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Dear Love, hope you enjoy this second installment of your birthday fic. It got a lot naughtier than I'd originally planned, but hopefully it works.**

* * *

Rufus taps Miles on the shoulder. "Here." He lays a key next to Miles's whiskey.

"What's this?"

"Room key."

Miles looks the giant up and down. "Sorry, Mister. You're not my type."

Rufus frowns. "Right back at'cha, Assface. Jo said to give it to you for later. You'll be staying over at the boarding house." The bartender looks around to make sure nobody is paying attention. "Same place Truman is staying at."

"Where's my buddy _Jasper_ staying?" Miles asks suspiciously.

"He'll be with Jo 24/7. They'll stay here in a room upstairs. She works the tables when she's not dancing. He'll have all the same shifts that she has. When they aren't working, they'll be trying to get dirt on Truman."

"24/7?" Miles repeats with gritted teeth. "What the hell kind of dumbass plan is this?"

"Truman has his eye on Jo. She was doing okay solo till he started to pursue her. He's got it bad for her and truth is he's not good about taking no for an answer. I told him that she had a boyfriend. You two getting called here was all her idea, though."

"Where are the love birds now, anyway?"

"Back room. She's filling him in."

"Yeah, I bet she is."

* * *

Bass leans against a wall in the office, watching Charlie who is sitting on an old bench on the other side of the room. "So, I have to watch you dance in tiny sexy dresses and watch you wait tables wearing those same dresses AND I get to make out with you whenever we have free time so this asshole Truman believes I'm your guy?"

Charlie smirks, leaning back casually; her expression is smug. "Yeah, pretty much."

"Thought you hated me?"

"I used to. After all you did in the Patriot war…" She shrugs. "I don't hate you now. I don't always like you either. I'm ambivalent toward you these days, I guess."

He cocks an eyebrow. "Really? Cause the way you were mauling me out there was not what I'd call ambivalent."

Charlie's cheeks redden slightly. "That was just for show. I knew Truman was watching."

"Is he still here?"

"Yeah. He stays till we close up every night." She stands and turns toward the door. "Come on. Rufus probably needs us."

Bass reaches out and grabs her wrist. "Not so fast, Jo."

"Huh?"

"If I'm your man, and we've been apart for a while…" He trails his fingertips up her bare arm. "And this Truman asshole saw you come back here with me…"

"Yeah?"

"He's going to be watching the door so he can see us when we go back out there."

"So?" She tries to sound flippant, but now his fingers are tracing her collarbone. Slowly he runs his finger up her throat and then cups her cheek with his palm. She feels a little shudder. "So?" She asks again.

"So, if it was me out there watching, I'd expect that after this long in the back room with her lover who she hasn't seen for a while, you'd look…"

"Hmm?"

"Like someone who has welcomed her man back into her life properly." He uses his free hand to pull her close. "You need to look mussed and rumpled and…"

"And?" Her eyes go wide as she sees the hunger in his.

"And freshly fucked."

She has every intention of asking another question but before she has the chance, he crashes his mouth down on hers. This time he doesn't waste even a moment on anything soft or gentle. He goes right for the gold, biting and sucking and chafing her skin with his beard.

She doesn't kiss him back at first, but then he grasps her hips and yanks her close. Once again she can feel the hard ridge of his cock against her belly. She moans involuntarily and wraps her arms around his neck, arching into his touch.

He buries his hands in her hair, holding her in place as he lowers his mouth to her throat. She pushes at his chest when he begins to suck at her pulse point, but the feel of his tongue on her flesh as he pulls it through his teeth is far too intoxicating, and she stops fighting.

Bass leans back and looks at the mark he's left, smiling with satisfaction. Then he kisses her again and Charlie's knees go a little bit weak. Bass may be a jerk and an asshole, but the man knows how to kiss.

Without letting up the onslaught against her mouth, Bass slides his hands over the firm curve of her ass. He finds the hem of her dress and pulls it high, baring her cheeks, separated only by a thin strip of black lace. He traces the lace with a probing finger, finding her dripping with desire.

"Ambivalent, my ass," he says with a smirk before pushing her away. He walks to the door, but stops with his hand on the knob. He glances over his shoulder, taking in her messy hair, swollen lips, heaving chest and the purple mark on her throat. "Yeah, that'll do."

"You. Are. An. Asshole," Charlie grits out.

"Maybe so, but it appears I'm your asshole for the duration, Sweetheart. Thanks for picking me. This is going to be fun." Bass grins as he lets himself out.

* * *

Miles watches as Bass takes his place behind the bar. Charlie is still nowhere to be seen. "You guys were gone for a while. Everything okay?" Miles asks before taking a drink from his glass.

"I'm guessing that depends on which one of us you ask. I think everything is great."

Charlie appears. Miles growls when he sees the stubble burn on her cheeks and the hickey blossoming on her neck. "What the hell?"

"Don't worry about me," Charlie says with a sugary sweet smile. "I'm going to make him pay dearly for any liberties he takes."

Miles shakes his head angrily. "No liberties are to be taken. None at all."

Bass rolls his eyes. "Oh, calm down. It's just -"

"Incoming," Charlie hisses and the men shut up just as a newcomer approaches the bar.

Harry P. Truman is a thinner, younger, sleazier version of his brother. He's wearing a black shirt and old jeans. To look at him, you wouldn't know he has patriot sympathies. You'd know he's an asshole, but that's all. "Who are your friends, Jo?" He eyes the men coldly.

Charlie slides an arm around Bass's waist. "This is my boyfriend, Jasper. I told you about him, remember?"

Truman looks at Bass with narrowed eyes. "Thought you'd be bigger."

"Uh, why's that?"

"She was going on and on about what a good fighter you are." Clearly Truman isn't convinced.

"Jo might be a bit biased. I did a bit of fighting a while back and she was my biggest fan. Truth is I think watching me fight was probably when she started wanting me. You know how girls are…"

Truman looks back and forth between them as if he's gauging something.

"Anyway," Bass continues. "I just got into town and Rufus hooked him up with a job so that he could be close. Now that we're together again, nothing will keep me away from her."

Truman nods. "I can see why. Jo is a beauty." He openly looks her up and down. "She's been sadly neglected."

Bass narrows his eyes. "That won't be an issue any longer."

"And who are you?" Truman turns to Miles.

Miles scowls at him. "New in town. Call me Stu."

"Welcome to Arnette, Stu. Jasper." He leaves them without saying more.

"Seriously, that douche is our big threat? Let's just slit his throat while he sleeps," Miles says with distaste.

"We need to see how many layers there are to his little project. If he's the top of the heap, I agree. We should take him out. I'm just not sure that he is."

The rest of the night passes without incident, at least by Lone Star standards. There are thirteen fights, two stabbings and a threesome that takes place on the porch out front.

MIles shakes his head. "This place is like Sodom and Gomorrah."

Rufus hears Miles grumbling and smiles, showing off a few missing teeth. "Nah, those fuckers were pansies."

* * *

"So, this is our room?" Bass tosses his pack down on the floor beside the bed and looks around. The room is narrow. There is a chair and a small table and that's it. Charlie has a few dresses that hang on hooks along one wall. A wash basin and a softly glowing lantern sit on the table.

"Yeah." Charlie shrugs. "It's not so bad. Gets noisy at night sometimes, but it's better than sleeping on the hard ground."

Bass smirks. "So you're sharing your bed with me? I'm liking this job more and more."

"Don't get your hopes up. You are still sleeping on the -"

Bass yanks her close and covers her mouth with his, swallowing her words.

She gasps when he lets her go only to hold her tightly against his body. "We have company," he growls low against her ear.

"What?" Charlie can't focus on his words. His grip is iron.

"Someone is watching through a crack in the door. That ever happen before?" He keeps his voice a soft whisper, stroking her body with slow, sure hands.

She shakes her head. "Don't think so. Maybe it's Miles?"

Bass chuckles quietly before nipping at her earlobe. "Nah. He'd have broken down the door already."

"What do we do?"

"Depends." He kisses her again, delving deep, tasting and seeking. "Depends on how important this cover is."

"Been building it for six months." She bites her lip, uncertain. "It's important."

Bass feels a buzzing in his balls. He's wanted Charlie for over a year. Longer if he's honest. He'd almost given up when the Patriot war ended and still nothing had happened. Now, he's moments from finally getting what he wants, but he feels like he's winning on a technicality. "Up to you, Charlie." He brushes a long strand of hair out of her face and watches as she thinks through her decision.

Charlie straightens her shoulders. "Fuck it," she mutters.

He can't help but crack a smile. "Is that an order?"

"No. I meant…" Clearly frustrated, she bites down on his shoulder hard enough to bruise.

Bass hisses and his cock surges against his fly, painfully hard. "Meant what?" He growls.

"Let's give them something to watch." Charlie whispers, eyes bright with determination.

Technicality or not, this is happening. Shit. He draws in a deep breath.

When he exhales, she can feel the tendrils at her temple stirring slightly. Her nipples harden and her clit tingles. It's like her body is overheating at the very thought of what is coming next. And this isn't the first time she's thought about it.

Not the first time at all.

But she doesn't have time to dwell on it because his mouth covers hers again and this time it's not teasing. This is the real thing. His lips are firm and his beard brushes against her skin. Charlie's brain is barely keeping up with the shockwaves surging through her body as he backs her toward the bed.

Bass pushes her back onto the old faded quilt and she props herself up on her elbows, looking up at him. He's looming over her, devouring her with his eyes. "Wanted you for so long," he admits, his voice gravelly and low.

Me too, she wants to tell him, while need flutters through her stomach. But she's not quite ready to do that. Not quite ready to admit how she really feels about him.

"Then come down here and get me," she taunts instead, her eyes sparkling with challenge.

He licks his lips, his eyes burning with equal parts amusement and raw lust. "On my way." He reaches down and unsnaps his pants.

Charlie's breath catches as she watches raptly. He pulls the zipper down carefully over his erection. When it springs free, Charlie sucks in a breath with a hiss.

Bass's cock is perfect. Thick and long, straight and heavily veined, the head of it begs to be kissed and she doesn't remember wanting to suck something so badly in her life. Charlie licks her lips, watching as pre-cum glistens on his tip. "Fuck," she whispers.

Charlie reaches down, working her dress up and spreading her legs for him. He takes in her wet black panties with hungry, hooded eyes and grasps his dick. He begins to work it slowly with his fist.

"Take those off," he commands. "Want to see you."

She lifts her hips, rolling the fabric down and kicking it away.

He takes in her swollen lips and the drenched folds of her pussy, humming in approval. "Need to taste you."

Charlie groans as he falls to his knees, pulling her close to the edge of the bed. Bass lifts her legs over his shoulders and dives in, covering her pussy with his mouth, sucking at her sex, plunging his tongue into her slippery center.

She bucks against his mouth, feeling his chuckle against her tender flesh.

"Patience," he mutters into her folds, before taking her nub between his teeth. As he sucks her tender clit, he pushes two fingers into her pussy, finger fucking her with firm, shallow strokes.

"Holy fucking hell!" She cries out as she comes, wrapping her fingers in his curls and holding his face in place. He sucks and licks her through her orgasm, stopping only when she falls limply into the mattress.

"My turn?" He asks, greedily licking her juices from his lips as he stands.

Charlie nods and moves to sit in front of him. She reaches for his heavy balls, caressing them with gentle fingers. He makes a throaty sound as he tilts his hips closer to her. Bass's throbbing cock is now right before her. She looks up and meets his eyes as she takes his dick in hand and opens her mouth.

Bass can't wait any longer. He thrusts, pushing his cock between her perfectly plump lips with a flick of his hips. Charlie wraps her hand around his base, jacking his shaft as she worships his tip with the rough of her tongue.

Without warning, Bass pushes her down onto her back once more and hovers over her. He lowers his body to hers.

Charlie is so ready for his cock that when he doesn't enter her pussy, she feels cheated. "What are you doing?" She hisses as he begins to thrust against her belly, his cock firmly caught between their bodies.

Bass is shaking slightly, his voice harsh. "Making it look like the real thing for our peeping tom."

"You don't have to fake it. Want you. Need you."

He stills then and looks at her, eyes hot and questioning. "You sure?"

Charlie tilts her pelvis for a better angle. "So goddamned sure. Fuck me, Bass."

She's used his nickname before, but not often, and sure as hell never like this. He reaches down and lines himself up with her drenched center, rocking in deep with one thrust. "Your pussy is so hot. So tight." He begins to move, filling her with deep, slow strokes.

She feels the stretch as her body adjusts to his width. "More!" She begs, wanting all of him.

Bass goes deeper yet as he pulls one of her legs up over his shoulder and increases his pace. He bottoms out, the tip of his engorged penis pushing against her cervix. He grunts, before retreating and pushing in again. "How about that?" He asks, balls deep.

"Yes, but faster."

He shakes his head, laughing. "Whatever you want, Charlotte." He begins to drive into her with full force. The sounds of their bodies joining fill the room, and Bass feels his balls tighten. He drops her leg from his shoulder, leaning in close once again. He places his hands at the sides of her face and presses his lips to hers. He changes his pace, slowing to a steady, perfect rhythm.

"Oh God," she moans. "So close."

He stares into Charlie's eyes, feeling her body convulse around his cock with the first waves of her orgasm. Charlie lifts her head, kissing him as she comes. As her core explodes with sensation, she bites down on his lip and her nails scrape at his back.

Bass deepens the kiss. It becomes more needy, urgent, a little bit brutal. He begins once again to pound into her, fucking her through the last grasping spasms of her orgasm. She moans into his mouth and he's done, yanking free of her to pulse his seed on the drenched curls between her legs.

They collapse side by side on the bed, breathing heavily. "Whoa," she mutters.

Bass nods, his body exhausted. "Yeah."

Charlie turns to him. "So maybe I exaggerated when I said I was ambivalent toward you."

He lets out a throaty chuckle. "Ya think?"

She smacks him in the shoulder and he catches her hand, bringing her soft, warm fingers to his lips.

Charlie shivers at the tenderness of his touch. "Truth is, I've been wanting this for a long time."

"Mmmm, me too."

She grins happily at him. "I don't really think we should tell Miles about this. Okay?"

He looks her way with a satisfied smirk. "Never even crossed my mind, but for the record…" He trails off, rolling to wrap an arm around her waist and nuzzle her hair.

"For the record, what?"

"Best. Assignment. Ever."

She can't help but smile as she teases him. "I've had better."

"Liar." Bass grins against her ear. "And neither have I."

"Blow out the lantern, Bass." Charlie's voice is soft and sleepy. "Let's go to sleep."

Bass extinguishes the flame with a quick whoosh of breath. The room falls into blackness. "Hey, Charlie?"

"Yeah?" Charlie stands and slides out of her dress before getting back under the covers.

"The light? Why didn't we just do that to begin with? Nobody out there can see anything now." His voice is thoughtful and more than a little flirtatious.

"What would have been the fun in that?" She asks playfully. When he laughs, she joins in. "Come on, Sexy. Get in my bed. I need some sleep. I'm all tired and sore."

Bass pulls off his clothes and slides into the bed behind her, spooning her naked body with his own. "You're welcome."

* * *

 **A/N: A huge thank you to Romeo for doing a beta review! As always, your feedback and suggestions for change were invaluable and spot on. Thanks! Next chap should be up within the week.**

 **Leave a comment if you have a moment.**


	3. Chapter 3

Early morning light filters through the threadbare blanket that serves as a curtain on Charlie's bedroom window. Specks of dust float through the tiny room, swirling and diving aimlessly. Bass supposes the scene should be calming.

He should just go back to sleep.

He should, but that's just not going to happen, not when a very naked and very warm Charlie Matheson is snuggled in his arms. His face is buried in her hair and his body cradles hers. No, this isn't calming. It's the opposite of calming, because now that he's had a taste of Charlie, he wants more.

Bass shifts slightly, nudging her perfectly curved ass cheek with his cock. Again.

She snores softly and he groans, wishing she'd just wake up already. He reaches around and pinches at a nipple, rolling it, maybe a little rougher than is necessary. He doesn't care. He has needs and right now burying his dick in Charlie is at the top of the list.

Charlie mutters something unintelligible and snuggles closer against his chest.

Bass take a deep steadying breath, reminding himself to be patient. "Rise and shine," he whispers gruffly against her ear, nipping at the lobe.

"Bass?" Her voice is scratchy with sleep.

"Expecting someone else?" He thrusts his cock against her hip again.

"No. Just you, but wanna sleep."

"Seriously?" He tilts up on an elbow and shakes her shoulder none too gently. "Charlie, I'm dying here."

"Shut up. Need sleep." Charlie closes her eyes tight, but can't hide a smile as she slowly strokes his thigh where it is pressed tightly to hers. She wiggles her ass against his length, letting out a happy little sigh.

Bass has had enough. With an impatient growl, he pulls her onto her back and smoothly moves between her thighs. He pauses for a moment, meeting her eyes. Her sleepy smirk tells him all he needs to know. "I said 'Rise and Shine.'" He thrusts easily into her heat, still slick from the night before.

Charlie wraps her legs around him, pressing her heels into his ass and pulling him closer with a sigh as he sinks in deep. He kisses her slowly, waking her with his tongue and his cock. His movements are languid. Now that Bass is where he wants to be, he's taking his time. "Feels so fucking good," he says against her lips.

"Eh, it's okay." She smirks. In spite of her words, Charlie rolls her hips, urging him deeper.

"Just okay? Bullshit." Bass slowly runs a hand down her side and along her thigh. He pulls her knee higher, finding his way deeper inside her core. When her body tenses, he speeds up his tempo, thrusting and withdrawing quickly, burying his cock repeatedly. "How about now?"

Charlie groans as her body begins to hum. "Yes."

Bass grins, even as beads of sweat appear on his brow. His movements are now fierce and needy. Reaching between their bodies, he rubs a thumb across her sensitive nub. "Now?" He asks, breathing heavily.

"Fuck, yes!" Charlie comes apart, arching against him with a moan.

Bass is close and he pulls from her sweet warmth. He leans in, kissing her hungrily as he grasps his cock and jerks it three times from root to tip. When he comes, he spurts, thick and hot against her thigh.

Charlie pulls away with a sated smile and looks deeply into his smoldering blue eyes. "Good morning, Bass."

"Best morning ever."

* * *

Miles opens his bedroom door slowly, peering out through the narrow opening. He's across the hall and down two doors from Harry Truman's room. Miles hadn't slept much. He has a lot on his mind. It hadn't helped that he'd heard Harry and a woman going at it almost all night. Actually, from the sounds of things, it was probably two women.

Two very loud women.

Miles rubs his eyes. He's tired and frustrated and he's more than a little concerned about whatever seems to be happening between Charlie and Bass. What the hell is that, anyway? Either they are both way better at acting than they've ever been before, or –

No. Miles shakes his head. No or. Gotta be the acting thing.

After a brief wait, the door to Truman's room opens and a busty brunette walks out. She was one of the dancers at the Lone Star last night. Miles would recognize that rack anywhere. A slender Asian woman with long black hair follows the first girl.

Miles nods slightly to himself. Yep. Two girls.

He expects to see Truman wander out next and is surprised when a petite blonde and a tall athletically built black woman come out instead. Truman finally emerges, and hanging on his arm is a plump red head.

Damn. Five girls.

Miles scowls. Selfish bastard. Lucky and selfish, he corrects himself. He watches as the girls leave. Harry watches them walk away as well. Then he begins to scribble something into a notebook. He's still writing when he walks back into his room, kicking his door shut with a thump.

Miles wonders if Blanchard's intel is wrong. Ed Truman's brother is a weasel and an asshole and evidently loves the ladies, but he doesn't seem dangerous. The door doesn't open again for the next hour. Miles gives up.

* * *

"Which one?" Bass is eyeing the dresses that hang on hooks along one wall of the narrow bedroom.

"The blue one, I guess." Charlie is standing at the small table, washing as best she can using a pail of tepid water and an old strip of terry cloth.

Bass takes the blue dress from its hook and turns toward her. He stops, taking a moment to enjoy the view. Charlie is naked. Her hair is hanging long and loose down her back. The sunlight kisses her skin, giving it a soft glow. He takes the few steps that separate them. "You're beautiful, Charlie."

She looks at him over her shoulder and smiles. "You don't look so bad yourself."

He reaches out, running his hand through her hair, watching absently as the strands slide between his fingers. "Last night you said you've wanted me for a while."

"Yeah."

"Since when?" He steps back as she pulls on a tiny pair of panties and shimmies into the tight blue dress. "You used to hate me," he continues. "When did that change?"

"When I started to look at your ass, and when I stopped hating you are two very different points in time." She points to her back. "Zip me?"

He chuckles and slides the zipper slowly up her back. "So when did you start looking at my ass?"

"Well, I guess it was a week or so after you saved me from those dirtbags in that bar. We were almost to Willoughby and you got stung by that bee. Remember?"

Bass thinks back. It had all been so long ago. "Yeah, I guess so." He tilts his head, watching her thoughtfully. Slowly a grin spreads. "Wait. I remember. You had some salve with you."

"It was a recipe Maggie had taught me. I still use it."

"And you offered to apply some of your salve to my bee sting."

"Before I knew where it was located, exactly," she laughs at the memory. "When you dropped your pants right then and there and showed me that bare ass…"

He nods. Just a hint of a smile plays at his lips. "And when did you stop hating me?"

Charlie sighs. "The Patriot War. You showed your loyalty so many times. You were always there when we needed you. You saved Aaron's life during that raid at the border, and risked your own in the process." She trails off, not meeting his eyes.

"You stopped hating me because I helped out in the war?" He sounds skeptical.

"Do you remember when we were fighting that group of recruits from the training camp near Savannah?"

"Yeah?"

"Those two guys were ready to kill me, and you came in and blew them away and…." She shrugs. "It wasn't just that. I'd watched you kill before. Even kill for me."

"What was different?"

"You had this look in your eye. It was like you would do anything to save me. And I already knew you felt that way, sort of. I knew you wanted to keep me safe for Miles, but that was the first time I really felt you were saving ME, not just your best friend's niece. When you looked at me and your face was all speckled with their blood and you asked if I was okay, it was like whatever hate there was left – it just faded away."

Bass pulls her into his arms. "I'd been doing it for you for a long time by then. Must have let my guard down."

"You didn't want me to know it was for me? Why?"

"Figured you'd stick your knife in my heart if I ever told you what I was really thinking. I never thought I had a chance with you." He kisses her temple gently.

"When did you start to like me?"

"It was at the school."

"The school where we saw the Patriots catch fire?"

"Yeah. But before that when we were in that hallway and I left you." He glances away, frowning.

"You left me, but then you came back." She nods.

"Yeah, I came back because I realized I couldn't leave you there. You were too special."

"To Miles."

"And also to me. Still are."

* * *

Miles is scarfing down a heaping bowl of scrambled eggs in the boarding house's dining room. The lady that runs the place reminds him of June Cleaver – if June Cleaver carried a Colt 45 in her apron pocket.

June refills his coffee cup without being asked. He takes a tentative sip from the steaming mug and smiles. This is real coffee - not that post blackout bullshit roast that most places serve. He closes his eyes, inhaling the heavenly aroma.

"Hey, Stu."

Miles glances over to the chair next to his own. Harry P. Truman is sitting there, smiling that plastic smile that reminds Miles so much of Ed. "Uh, hey."

"I have a question for you."

"Well then you'd better go ahead and ask me." Miles takes another sip of his coffee.

"Do you like the ladies, Stu?"

"Well, maybe not quite as much as _you_ do, Truman. I saw that parade of tail this morning. You are a lucky man." Miles smirks and takes another drink of his coffee.

"How would you describe your perfect woman?"

Miles isn't sure why he's being asked this, but sees no harm in telling the truth. "Naked, willing, mute."

Truman laughs heartily and smacks Miles on the back. "Yeah, that would be perfect, wouldn't it? You be around the Lone Star later?"

"Yeah, heading over in a bit."

Truman pats Miles on the shoulder. "See ya there, Stu. Maybe we can talk some more."

"Can't wait," Miles drawls.

* * *

Bass is behind the bar but his eyes are on Charlie as she waits tables. The blue dress hugs her curves and he's well aware that he's not the only person who's noticed. Bass watches as a burly guy in a Stetson strokes her arm as he orders a drink. Bass's jaw tightens. He takes a deep breath. This is harder than he'd thought it would be.

He can't even remember the last time he cared enough to actually be jealous. Years. Decades, maybe. Regardless, it's not a feeling he enjoys. Bass pours a whiskey and then glances her way again. As he watches, a fight breaks out. Stetson is throwing a punch at a skinny red-headed guy and Charlie is shoved into a table.

Bass jumps over the bar and charges right into the fray. He punches Stetson hard, catching him in the solar plexus. The big guy doubles over in pain. The skinny one launches himself at Bass and Bass effortlessly flings him aside. Red is groaning but Bass ignores him, moving to Charlie and pulling her close.

Miles walks in just in time to see Bass wrapping his arms around Charlie with two idiots lying on the floor at his feet. He watches as Bass presses his lips to Charlie's temple while he strokes her lower back.

After a few moments, Bass makes his way back to the bar.

Miles plops down on a bar stool. "Laying it on a little thick aren't you?"

"Nope. Just looking out for my girlfriend, _Stu_."

Before Miles can respond, Bass walks to the other end of the bar to help a customer.

Rufus appears in front of Miles. "Can I get ya anything?"

"Does this stupid bar sell anything stronger than whiskey?"

"Sure do." Rufus reaches under the bar, and then slams a bottle of a mysterious liquid in front of Miles. It is murky and green.

Miles blanches. "What do you call it?"

"Damnation." Rufus pours a glass and pushes it into Miles's waiting hand.

Miles takes a sip. "What is this, nuclear run-off?"

Rufus chuckles. "Well, shit. Now that you've figured out my secret recipe, you're gonna have to die. What's got into you anyway? Seem kind of grouchy about your friends."

"First of all, I'm always grouchy, but I don't like them pretending to be a couple." Both men eye the front. Charlie is getting ready to go on stage for her first set. Before she walks up the stairs, Bass is there pulling her close. He kisses her lustily, clearly marking his territory before anyone can get any ideas.

Rufus raises one shaggy eyebrow. "Ain't much pretending going on there."

"You're wrong. This is all for show."

"So, you don't think they're a couple? Don't think they like each other?" Rufus raises one eyebrow.

"No way. This is just a job, and Bass would never go there. Not with her. She's my – well, he knows that would be a bad idea."

Rufus shakes his head. "Listen I don't know you guys, but I do know what fucking sounds like and what I heard through the wall last night was not pretend fucking."

Miles bristles. "Maybe it wasn't them?"

"It was them. I have a corner room. Hers is right next to mine. The walls are like paper."

"But maybe it wasn't actually them? Maybe someone else was in that room?" Miles is grasping at straws.

"Yeah, I'm sure that's it." Rufus rolls his eyes. "Someone else snuck into their room to get lucky – someone else named Bass and Charlie."

Miles clenches and unclenches his fists. "Shit," he says.

Rufus nods toward where Bass and Charlie are talking. "Might want to give them a refresher on maintaining a cover story, by the way. They need to use their new names all the time."

"Yeah, because the names they use while they fuck each other is the problem."

"Well, I don't know why you're so bent out of shape. They seem to like each other. Quite a bit if this morning's repeat performance was any indication."

"This morning?" Miles takes another gulp from his glass. His hands are shaking, and he thinks maybe his head is going to explode.

"Oh yeah. She's been staying here for almost a month and last night was the first time I heard any noise at all from her room since got here. This morning they were going at it again, way before I wanted to actually wake up, to be honest." Rufus shrugs. "But as wake up calls go, it wasn't all bad."

Miles closes his eyes and concentrates on breathing. He also concentrates on not pulling out his gun and shooting Bass in the head.

Concentrating is hard.

Miles points to his empty glass. "Need more of that."

Rufus chuckles as he pours.

Miles decides the only way to deal with this new development is to ignore it for now. Nothing good can come from confronting them right now. He changes the subject. "So you and Blanchard are friends?"

"Oh yeah. Known Frankie forever. He used to come out this way a lot to have some fun with the ladies, back when we had really good whore houses. They're all shit anymore. No matter. These days all Frank has time for is Texas. Too bad too. That man knows how to party."

"What about Truman? What's your take on him?"

Rufus shakes his head. "That guy's an idiot. And a pervert. And a shit. A few of the girls have hinted around that he's sometimes rough when that isn't what they signed on for. I think that's what had Frank worried at first. He didn't want Jo to be in a position where she might get violated. And I guess he thinks Harry is trying to start some sort of revolt but I don't think he has the brains needed for that. Anyway, since Jo is important to you two, Frank encouraged her to call you in."

They both look to where Bass and Charlie are talking. They're in the shadows but still visible enough that Miles can clearly see when Bass runs his hand up under the short flowing skirt of the dress she's wearing. Bass grins down at Charlie and she looks up at him with a tender smile. There is a sweet intimacy between them that makes Miles look away, uneasy.

"Fuck," he mutters into his drink. "They barely liked each other the last time we were all together."

Rufus tilts his head, still watching the couple in question. "Or, maybe they were acting before, and this is the real thing?"

"I hate this fucking assignment."

* * *

Charlie is just moments away from her second set. Bass has his hand up her skirt and is stroking her hip with feather light touches. "I really love watching you dance." Bass nuzzles her throat, tickling her skin with his beard.

"Yeah?"

"Oh yeah. Hate anybody else gets to see you though."

"It's part of the cover. You know that."

"I know." He gazes into her eyes, deep in thought. "What happens after all this?" He motions with his free hand to the bar at large.

"Another job for Texas, I guess. What about you?"

He shrugs. "What would you think about having someone working with you?"

Her eyes sparkle. "You want to come on the road with me? Work for Texas together? Be a team?"

"I don't really give a shit about Texas, but yeah. I'd love it if we could work together."

"What about Miles?" Charlie toys with the collar of Bass's shirt, sliding her fingers along the smooth expanse of his chest.

Bass glances over at his best friend. "I need to talk to him. He's not going to like it."

"I'm a big girl, Bass. I can make my own decisions."

"I know that. I'm just not sure Miles is going to be on board with me being one of those decisions."

Charlie furrows her brow. "He's going to have to get used to it. I want to keep you."

Bass leans in and whispers against her ear. "I want Miles to approve, but even if he doesn't – if you want me, Charlotte - I'm all yours."

* * *

 **A/N Hey Love, sorry for the wait between chapters. Real life has been busy. :) Hope you are still enjoying this. There will be one more chapter to wrap up this story.**

 **A huge thank you to the immensely talented Romeokijai for assisting with her beta skills. You rock.**

 **For anyone interested, I do have a new multi-chap fic that I'm only posting on AO3. It's titled "Taken". Feel free to check it out.**

 **As always, comments are greatly appreciated. -Lemon**


	4. Chapter 4

Miles makes his way down the main street of Arnette, Texas, squinting against the swirling dust. Now and then, the sunlight causes the dirt to shimmer - almost as if Mother Nature herself is trying to make this shithole look a little less shitty.

"No dice, Mother Nature," Miles grumbles as he steps over a man who is lying spread eagle on the filthy street. The man's mouth is hanging open and he's snoring loudly.

On the other side of the street, a corpse is hanging from an old street sign but only the swarming flies seem to care. Miles just shakes his head and keeps walking.

He pauses briefly when he notices two scantily clad women making out against the wall of an old drug store. He smiles a little. "That's not so bad."

His smile fades as two men thunder by on foot. A third follows, shooting one of the fleeing men right in the back. He falls dead. The others keep running.

He shakes his head, the smile now gone as he makes his way toward the Lone Star. With every step that he takes, Miles gets more aggravated.

"This town is a fucking cesspool."

He walks through the front door of the bar, passing a man who is leaving with a knife sticking out of his thigh. Miles ignores him and heads straight over to where Rufus is pouring drinks for some customers. He takes a seat at the bar and waits till the bartender is free.

Rufus pushes a whiskey his way without being asked. "You look awful surly, even for you."

"I hate this fucking town," Miles mutters.

"What? The Welcome Wagon didn't put enough fruit in your basket?"

Miles just grunts in response.

Rufus tries again. "Didn't sleep good last night?"

"Not particularly, no. GI Joe was up all night banging a bunch of chicks. Again. That guy needs some volume control."

Rufus chuckles. "Do you really think he is trying to bring the Patriots back? Seems like he's mostly focused on getting laid."

"Good question. The intel seems to say yes, but you're right. He doesn't fit the bill."

Just then, Bass and Charlie walk past. She has just finished her last set and they now have an hour before her next one. Bass yells over at Rufus, "We'll be back in a bit. Just taking a break." His grin says what his words don't.

Miles growls into his drink.

Rufus knows he probably shouldn't say anything, but he can't help himself. "Speaking of people who need volume control…" He nods at the couple as they make their way up the stairs.

"Shut it."

Rufus is drying a glass with a questionable terry cloth towel. "Hey, Stu, you talk to either of them about any of this? Did you tell them you don't like them together?"

Miles shakes his head. "What's the point? They're both adults. I don't have a say. If he breaks her heart, that's a different story though."

"Makes sense." Rufus pauses before speaking again. "For what it's worth, I think they really like each other."

Miles holds up a hand, urging the bigger man to stop talking. "Regardless, I want to get out of this shitty town. The sooner the better." Miles takes a deep drink, gulping down the last of his whiskey and stands. He looks like a man on a mission.

"What's your plan?" Rufus asks.

"Time to stop all this waiting and watching. I'm going to get some goddamned answers."

"From who?"

"Harry P. Truman himself. Gonna ask that jackass what his deal is."

Rufus frowns. "And you think he'll just tell you?"

Miles smiles slowly and his eyes narrow. "He might need a little persuading. Been a while, but I still know how to get someone to talk."

"You have experience as an interrogator?"

"Yeah, you could say that." Miles shrugs. "I had this job once…"

Rufus pales at the coldness in Miles's voice. "So, Stu? Were you any good at that uh…job?"

Miles shrugs. "Let's just say I'm pretty confident I can get to the bottom of this shit pretty quickly. Maybe then we can get the hell out of this town once and for all."

Rufus watches as Miles leaves, and he feels a sliver of pity for Truman. "Wouldn't want to be that guy right now, no matter how much tail he gets."

* * *

Bass and Charlie are in her room. The raucous sounds from the bar below echo through the floorboards. The old bed creaks in a rhythm as old as time. Bass sits on the bed, leaning against the rusted iron headboard. His pants are bunched at his knees and a very naked Charlie rides him slowly.

He reaches up, pinching at dusky pink nipples. Charlie leans in close, biting lightly at his earlobe. "You like this?" She slides up and down his throbbing cock, loving the way he fills her.

"Fuck yes. Don't stop." Bass grasps her hips, sliding his fingers around to cup her firm ass.

Charlie smiles knowingly and rotates her hips, and as her pussy gyrates over his cock, he groans.

Thrusting up into her, he can't stop the pleading tone in his voice. "Faster."

She complies, still smiling as she begins to bounce.

"Yeah. Just like that." He digs his fingers into her hips and yanks her down hard on his cock.

He takes one hand from her him and moves it to her clit. He strokes the little nub with a rough finger. Charlie breaks apart, her pussy clenching him tightly in waves. He pulls from her and turns to the side, fisting his cock to a quick completion. They collapse into a heap and Bass strokes her hair.

After a while, he breaks the silence. "Got to ask you a question, Charlie."

"Anything."

"Tell me the truth. This op you're on for Blanchard? Truman - do you really think this guy is trying to bring back the Patriots?" He sounds skeptical.

Charlie chuckles against his chest. "Well, I did at first, but not anymore."

"So, he's not Ed Truman 2.0?"

"No." She shakes her head. "Harry is nothing like his brother. Not even close."

"Is he dangerous?"

Charlie bites her lip. "Nah. He's really not."

Bass frowns. "Not that I'm complaining, but why did you call Miles and me to join you here if Truman is a non-threat?"

"Well, it's a long story."

"I got time, Charlie."

She sighs. "Fine. I've been tailing that idiot for a long time and making no progress. I'd been asking Blanchard for some time off. Told him I needed a break. He wasn't a fan of the idea."

"Sorry. I'm not connecting the dots here."

"I thought I could jump start the investigation. I stepped up my game. Got in really close to Truman. I flirted with him. I told him I had an inside line to some cheap weapons. Took some chances, I guess, but he never took the bait. Didn't give a shit about weapons. He did like the flirting."

"Asshole," Bass mutters, pulling Charlie close in a possessive embrace. "So what finally changed your mind about Truman?"

"He offered me a job."

"A job? Doing what?"

"Well, it wasn't as a Patriot." She leans back, looking him in the eye. "Bass, Here's the truth. Truman wants to open a whore house here in Arnette. Says the good ones all closed due to poor management and shitty hookers. Anyway, he figures this is a town that is ripe for some fresh action. His words. Not mine."

Bass sputters. "So he asked you to be a hooker? And he's still walking around with both of his balls attached?"

She laughs. "Very funny. I told him thanks, but no thanks. It was in that moment that I had an epiphany."

"Really? What kind of epiphany is that?"

"I'd been spending a lot of time alone and I'd been thinking about…stuff."

Bass grins. "Never been called 'stuff' before." He dodges the punch she throws his way.

"Anyway, I decided I was tired of waiting for Blanchard to give me a vacation and I was tired of waiting for you to get your head out of your ass and come find me. After I told Truman no, I told him that my _boyfriend_ would be in town soon. That's when I sent for you." She pokes him in the chest and laughs as he grabs her and rolls on top, holding her down.

He kisses her soundly. "You're a minx. This was all part of your plan?"

"Well, I wasn't sure it would work, but I was tired of waiting and you aren't getting any younger -"

They are both laughing when they hear a tentative knock on the door.

Bass rolls away and Charlie grabs a blanket and wraps it around her body. He doesn't bother with doing anything other than yanking his jeans up. They hang open, showing a shadow of dark golden curls. He grabs a sword, holding it at the ready.

Bass is right behind her when Charlie opens the door. Rufus looms there, looking strangely shy. "Um, you probably need to get dressed and find Stu. He just went to get answers out of Truman."

"What are you talking about?" Bass asks, a knot of worry building in his chest.

Rufus won't meet Bass's eyes. "Stu still thinks the Patriot thing is happening and he doesn't want to be here anymore, so he's going over there to make that guy talk."

"Shit, he's going to question Truman?" Bass asks.

"Yeah, and it didn't sound like he was going to stop at saying please."

"Wait," Charlie says, poking a finger into Rufus's chest. "Were you out there listening while we talked and… well, were you listening while we talked?"

"Not just listening, I bet." Bass's voice is tight he snaps his jeans with one hand. With the other, he points at Rufus. "You were our peeping tom."

"Hey. I live and breathe this stupid bar. You guys – well, you've been a nice distraction." He turns to Charlie. "I'm sorry. I really am."

She scowls. "That's gross, Rufus, really gross I should slice off your balls."

"Ah hell, Charlie. I'm harmless. I promise. All I like to do is watch."

Charlie eyes the taller man carefully. Since her first day here, Rufus has been nothing but nice to her. He's helped her out of more than one tight spot. "Fine, but don't do it again, okay?"

Rufus holds up two fingers. "Scouts honor."

Bass pulls on his boots. "Yeah, right. Listen, none of that matters. We need to get to Miles before he does something in the name of Texas that shouldn't be done."

"You think he'll go that far?" Charlie asks, skeptical.

"He was our lead interrogator in the early years of the Republic. Trust me. We need to get over there fast."

"Why did he quit the interrogator job? Was he bad at it?" Rufus asks.

Bass grunts. "The opposite. After the Battle of Baltimore, he decided he needed to take a step back. I didn't argue. Sometimes he forgets when to stop."

* * *

Harry P. Truman's room at the boarding house is usually full of busty women and non-stop orgies, but not tonight. No. Tonight this room is full of pain.

His ankles and wrists are anchored to the four corners of his bed. His mouth is stuffed with a pair of his own dirty underwear and looming over his bed is none other than the Butcher of Baltimore.

"Okay. Gonna ask again. I need names. Who is involved in this bullshit Patriot plot with you?" Miles holds up a pair of pliers and waggles them teasingly at the man on the bed. Drops of blood splatter to the bed from the ends of his tool.

Truman's eyes are wide and frantic. He shakes his head wildly. "Mrggh, neguuuh. Neguuuh!"

"I had a feeling you were going to say that." Miles leans down and holds the man's foot still with an iron grip as he nudges the pliers around the man's smallest toe.

* * *

Bass and Charlie run to the boarding house and take the stairs two at a time. They don't have to ask which room to go to. They can hear muffled screams from the hallway.

"Shit. We might be too late," Bass says.

Bass tries the knob and it's locked. He glances up and down the hallway and, seeing nobody, shoves his shoulder into the door. The lock breaks and the wood around it cracks. He shoves the door open and stumbles into the room.

Bass takes one look at the immobilized Truman and groans. "Ah hell, Miles."

Miles looks up from his work when they walk in. "Fucker doesn't want to talk." Then he turns back to his work and yanks hard. Harry's toenail pops free and his eyes roll back in his head. Tears are streaming down his cheeks.

Charlie steps into the room and sees the bloody foot in Miles's hand. "Oh god. I'm going to be sick."

Bass puts a hand on his friend's shoulder. "You gotta stop."

"No. Need to get answers." Miles is weary.

"Hey, brother. This douche isn't who we thought he was. He's not a Patriot."

"What?" Miles looks up and his gaze meets Bass's. There is a spark of clarity peeking through the haze that had gripped him. "What?" He asks again, shaking his head. "How do you know that?"

Charlie moves toward Miles and speaks in a soothing voice. "I should have told you earlier. He's building a brothel here in Arnette. That's all. Been cozying up to the locals, asking their opinions. He wants to build an awesome brothel. That's his master plan. He wants to run a whore house, not a Patriot cel."

Bass cuts in. "He's been doing his own market research so he can build the best little whore house in Texas 2.0. Evidently some of his questions were misconstrued and Blanchard got word and jumped to conclusions."

Charlie nods. "He had a bad habit of using his brother's name to make some connections. That didn't help either. People got the wrong idea."

Miles rubs his eyes. "That's why he asked what my ideal woman is?" He looks at Truman. Truman nods urgently. Snot leaks from his nose.

Miles turns to glare at Charlie. "If he just wants to be a pimp, why the fuck are we here?"

"It's a long story. I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

Miles throws the bloody pliers to the floor. "This sucks balls. I'm going home."

"Wait!" Bass follows Miles out while Charlie unties Truman.

The men both get to the porch moments later. Bass reaches out and grabs Miles's shoulder. "What's going on? I get that you're pissed about me and Charlie but did you really have to go full out Butcher on the guy?"

"I wasn't close to full out Butcher. I didn't even cut him."

"Yet."

"Yet." Miles sits down heavily on the porch steps and pulls a whiskey bottle from his pocket. "Shit."

Bass sits next to his friend. "What's going on? Truth? Something has been eating at you for weeks."

"Before we came here, Rachel told me something. Something big." Miles takes a gulp from his bottle and shakes his head. He looks exhausted.

"Told you what?" Bass feels suddenly uneasy.

"We've been fighting for a while now. You know that. Once the war was over, there just wasn't enough going on to get in the way of all the shit in our past."

"Okay?"

"So, we were fighting and it was worse than it had been. She might have thrown a rolling pin…"

Bass snorts but regains his composure quickly. "Then what?"

"Then she told me Charlie is my kid. Just blurted it out like she was talking about the weather."

Bass feels his gut sink. "What?"

Behind them the screen door slams shut. Charlie is standing there with her arms crossed. "What did you say?"

Miles doesn't look up. "You heard me."

"Jesus. Did my dad – did he know?" Charlie sounds quiet.

Bass stands and goes to put his arm around Charlie but she shakes him off. "Did he know?" She asks again, her voice stronger.

"No, Charlie. Your mom lied to him too."

"Maybe she lied to _you_?" Charlie isn't even sure why she's arguing, except that hearing that Ben Matheson wasn't her dad somehow feels a lot like losing him again.

Miles turns. "Sorry, kid. I know this isn't the lottery you were hoping to win. Maybe we can figure out a way to still be… us. You don't have to tell anybody or anything. We never have to mention it again. If you want me to stay your uncle, that's who I'll be. If you want me to try to be more, well, we can work on that."

"I don't know." Charlie shakes her head. Tears are falling. This time when Bass takes her into his arms, she goes willingly.

Miles stands awkwardly, running a hand through his hair. "Hey, Bass. I'm trusting you to take care of her, okay? I'm getting out of town."

Bass nods in agreement. Charlie leaves Bass's arms and takes a tentative step toward Miles. "I don't need anyone to take care of me, you know."

Miles chuckles sadly. "I know. I do, but I worry about you. Always have."

Charlie takes a few more steps in his direction. He meets her in the middle and they embrace. Miles buries his nose in his daughter's hair. His shoulders shake for just a moment before he pulls away. "Hey, Charlie?"

"Yeah?"

"Loved you before I knew this. Still love you. Nothing will change that. Okay?"

She nods. "Love you too, and maybe I'm not totally surprised. It's just really weird. I think I need a little time to adjust."

"Tell me about it." He smirks at her and the tension fades. "Take care of yourself. Take care of that knuckle head too." He nods at Bass.

Bass mumbles something about also not needing to be taken care of, but the others ignore him. Charlie tilts her head. "We'll see you back home?"

"Yeah. See you at home." Miles nods and turns, heading out of town.

* * *

*** One Month Later ***

President Blanchard's office is bathed in shadow, save for the lone candle sitting on his desk. Cigar smoke hangs heavy in the air. He leans back, kicking his feet up on his desk and takes a drink from a crystal whiskey snifter. His gaze focuses on the flickering candle. He should be working his way through the big stack of papers next to his feet, but he just can't concentrate.

He's nervous to be honest. It's been a few weeks since he received word that his Generals were on their way back home and he's been on pins and needles ever since.

When he hears Miles bellowing at his assistant Beverly, Frank closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Send him in, Bev."

Miles barges in, the door banging shut behind him. He looks dusty and tired and raging mad. "You son of a bitch!"

"Hey, Miles. I heard Truman wasn't quite the bad guy we'd thought, huh?" He puts his feet back on the ground and clears his throat. "Guess we got our wires crossed."

"Yeah, well I'm going to take those wires and wrap them around your tiny shriveled –"

"Hey!" President Blanchard says, his hands going up. "You don't have to be like that. We really did think he was a bad guy there for a while."

"You are a dick, Frank. When you did think he was a bad guy, you thought it would be a good idea to send Charlie after him, alone?"

Blanchard nods slowly. "She's one of our best. You know that?"

"But she's –"

"No. No but. She's a crack shot with her guns, still better with a bow than most of my men are with bullets. She knows hand to hand. She's good at getting information. She is the best tracker on the payroll for Texas."

Miles sags into the visitor's chair. "But she's my –"

"I know she's your niece and I should have talked to you about it, but at the time, I just knew I wanted my best guy on the job and my best guy was Charlie."

"Not my niece, Frank."

"Huh?"

"She's my girl. My daughter. I didn't know that until recently, but I guess that's why I'm bent out of shape."

Frank leans back in his chair again. "Well, that makes sense. She's clever like her scientist mama and a wicked soldier like her daddy. You know, she's got what it takes to sit in my chair someday. Brains like that along with her fighting skills and this pedigree? She'll be president if she wants it."

"Doubtful." Miles glowers.

"Why?"

"Because I'll bet her new boyfriend will give her a million reasons that being president is a stupid career move. If anybody knows, it's him."

"New boyfriend?" Frank looks lost.

"Yeah, Bass and Charlie are a thing now. He wants to start working with her in the field. They'll be in here for new orders next week. He's stepping down from his current job." Miles shudders. "I blame you, Frank. All this bullshit is your fault."

"Bass? Bass Monroe? And Charlie?" A slow sly grin spreads across his face. "I was wrong. It will be their kid who becomes president. Can you even imagine?"

"I'd rather not."

Frank shakes his head. "Whatever. Rufus sent word that he's going to work in Truman's new place. He said that Harry forgives you. So, that's good."

Miles runs a hand through his hair and smiles a little. "Yeah, sorry about that."

Blanchard shrugs. "It's fine. I'm heading out there in a couple weeks. Going to smooth things over. Make sure there's no hard feelings. All that."

Miles shakes his head. "You never could avoid a decent whore house."

"That is the god's honest truth." Frank nods in agreement. "So what about you? What will the great Miles Matheson do now?"

"Ah, hell. I don't know. Maybe I'll finally retire. I know for sure I need to have a talk with Rachel. Then I'll probably have to find a new place."

"What about you and Charlie? Things okay there?"

"We met up briefly last week. Had a nice long talk. She's still pissed at her mom, but then who isn't? I guess we're both still adjusting to things, but yeah. I think we'll be okay."

* * *

The Texas sky is vast and inky black. Bass and Charlie are cuddled together in a pile of blankets, enjoying some quality time before they have to face reality. They are just a day out of Austin but are enjoying this last night in the wild. "You still want to work with me?" Charlie asks him, snuggling close to his chest.

"Yeah, I do. Among other things." He chuckles.

"Oh, really. What other things do you have in mind?"

"All the things, Charlie. We're gonna do it all."

 **END**

* * *

 **A/N Dear Love, I hope that this story was a fun one for you and once again, I just wanted to say how much your friendship means to me. I know it took me a while to finish this birthday fic, but thank you for being patient with me. Sending lots of happy thoughts your way.**

 **A very big thank you to Romeokijai who was my beta throughout this story and who always makes my stuff better.**

 **Leave a comment if you have a moment. I always love to hear what you think.**


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